


First Meeting

by flightinflame



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, First Meeting, Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-11
Updated: 2012-12-11
Packaged: 2017-11-20 20:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/589408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s seen a lot of women like Molly.  She knows how to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriffidsandCuckoos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriffidsandCuckoos/gifts).



> Warnings: Canon character death, self esteem issues, sex work (not explicit)

It was always the quiet ones, the ones that seemed innocent. The ones that probably spent most of their youth in a choir, their hair in pigtails. The ones that ran blogs full of kittens and smiles. The ones that admitted only at their darkest moments, when they thought that no one was listening, that they were lonely, and the ones that adopted a cat to try and fill the emptiness in their hearts. Molly was a particularly bad case of the type - not only did she have Tobi, she even had Tobi commenting on her blog, miaowing at her to fill the silence.

She'd seen so many women like this, passing through her doors, women with lives that were filled with work, and unnoticed emotion. Women that made the world run, and never had anything they did acknowledged. Women who were dying, just desperate, to be told that they had done well, that they were good. That they had made someone proud. Admittedly, normally they were housewives, or secretaries, not women with a professional interest in corpses, but that need for praise, that need to be noticed, was common to them all.

But yes, it was a familiar pattern. Not that they had met in a work environment. At least, not her kind of work environment. Their first meeting, kind of, had been in Molly's - as Sherlock had realised that whoever that young lady was with her face bashed in, it wasn't Irene. But their second, when they actually came face to face, that wasn't work.

She had almost thought he was immortal. A stupid thought, and she knew that, but she had never met any human like him. He hadn't seemed real, and she had thought he would live forever. At the funeral, she had been at the back, wrapped in a thick coat, wearing a smart dress, dry eyed. She wasn't sure why she had turned up. But she had been told it was happening, and she was here.

Molly had been at the front. No glamorous lipstick, no attempt made to dress up. Just sat there in a black shirt and skirt, speckled with cat hair, and crying, her body bent over itself as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

The crowd moved away, and the police officer said something to her. She doubted it mattered what was said. It was more to say something. Then he too left, and the woman was alone, still crying.

Irene knew what people thought about her line of work, and she was more than happy with it most of the time. She did her job, she was good at it, she enjoyed it. But it involved looking after people, giving them a chance to handle things that were too big for them to handle alone. And for Molly, this was much too big.

She approached her, resting a hand on her shoulder, one thumb brushing against that tear stained cheek.  
"You were close?"  
"No one was close to him. At least... I wasn't. I don't think he noticed I was there most of the time, he'd..." Her voice shook, but she kept speaking. "He'd talk to the room when I wasn't there. Or the bodies. I ..." She swallowed again, and Irene helped her to her feet.

"It's alright..." She soothed her, voice gentle. "I think he did care about you."  
Molly's lips twitched into a half-hearted attempt at a smile, and Irene encouraged it by smiling back at her.

"Let's get you home..." She led her out of the graveyard, frowning when she noticed how she was shivering. She removed her coat, and placed it around Molly's shoulders. "You've not been looking after yourself."

Another small shrug, and a self-deprecating laugh.  
"I don't feel there's much point... I won't..." Words failed her, and Irene nodded, understanding what went unsaid. Molly wouldn't see him again.  
"You need to take care of yourself." She told her, cupping her face between her hands, wiping her tears away with her thumbs and then kissing her forehead. "I insist on it. And I know best."

Molly wrapped the coat tighter around herself, wordless for a moment.  
"Did you know him well?" She whispered after a pause, walking beside her.  
"In a way." Irene answered, looking at the woman curiously. "I'd like to know more about him."

"It's funny..." Molly whispered, and there was another of her sad laughs. "I always think the best way of getting to know someone is to learn about who they're close to."  
"In which case..." Irene looked back, handing over a business card - not the normal one. The more subtle one, the one that was appropriate to take to funerals. "We should get to know each other." There was a smirk on her lips, but it was matched with sheer honesty in Molly's eyes.  
"I'd like that." She whispered, pocketing it and heading back to her flat and Tobi. Irene walked with her to the door, just to get her coat back.


End file.
